The Infected
by judesie
Summary: A collection of very short stories based around the Infected's point-of-view. Hopefully I'll get around to one story for every different type of Infected, but for now... enjoy!
1. Hunter

I needed to kill.

It was dark. Not a single survivor of the Infection had walked through the streets all day. I stayed in my hiding spot until the sun began to set. If I were still human, the amount of time I spent in the same crouched position would have annoyed me to no end, making my legs feel tired. I wasn't human anymore. I was willing to stay in my cramped vantage point until someone came along. Someone I could kill.

As the sun began to set, I noticed a lone girl walking down the street, clutching a baseball bat to her chest. With my vision, I could see her eyes flicker nervously from side to side, her knuckles pale white. The baseball bat was broken at one end, large splinters of wood making up the handle. She was dressed in a black, tight-fitting mini-dress that was torn down one side and frayed at the edges. She was missing a shoe, but the strap of a stiletto heel was still clinging to her left foot. Her hair was dyed jet-black, and blond roots barely showed themselves at the top of her head. Her eyes were outlined in dark mascara, and deep red lipstick covered her trembling lips, smudged at the edges. Tears were running down her face, and she was struggling to keep her dress from falling apart while limping down the dirty sidewalk.

Shifting into my crouching position, I aimed carefully. I was not going to miss her. She continued to limp down the street, eyes wide with fear. I ran my tongue across my lips: Adrenaline always made the kill more exciting. I had no intention of eating her, or drinking her blood, or anything of the sort… I just needed to _kill._ I could almost feel myself itch with the desire to end a life, and it made me feel even more crazed, more fidgety than usual.

I tensed my muscles, my eyes focusing on my prey. Her black dress was embroidered with glittering sequins, and I focused on her dress. I waited for a moment of weakness, and it came. She stumbled forward, tripping on her single stiletto and dropping her bat. I leaped into the air and landed on my prey. She let out a desperate scream, then covered her face with her arms. I pinned her down with my knees and started to rip at her sides, the black material of her dress tearing with every strike. She continued to scream, and I was slightly disappointed that she had chosen not to fight back. I dug my knees harder into her stomach, causing her to yell even louder.

"_Help me!_" She yelped, tears running down her face. "_Somebody, anybody! Help!_" She started to cough blood, and I sent a single claw across her face. Four ragged, bleeding wounds now covered the majority of her pretty little face, and she grew silent. I knew she was still alive, though, for I had intended to enjoy _killing _her: I wanted a slow, excruciating death. These were just flesh wounds.

I raised both of my clawed hands, intent on ripping through her chest: the death blow. Before I could finish her off, I felt a hard pain in my side. I had been kicked off of the girl, and I stumbled away. I looked up at my attacker, a blurred image of another girl in a pink jacket with her hair swept back into a ponytail. She raised a gun to my head, and the world went black.


	2. Smoker

I could hear the voices of four Survivors just around the corner. Shuffling back into the shadows, I pressed myself against the cold brick wall. I heard the burly voice of a man argue with the voice of a woman.

"No, no, _no!_ Videogames are _not _stupid, Francis. You're just pissed 'cause you can't play them." The voice of another man laughed, and I heard the slap of a high-five.

"Listen here, Zoey. Videogames are a waste of time. Just plain stupid. Hate 'em." I heard a gruff grunt of approval from another man, and I could smell the smoke from a cigarette.

"Whatever." The girl sighed. The four continued to shuffle down the street, and I started to get nervous. They were getting closer… Should I make a run for it? If they spotted me, I'd be dead in a heartbeat. As I was scooting along the wall, I felt my back connect with a metal doorknob. An escape! I opened the door and quickly rushed inside, thankful for the alternate route. I breathed a small sigh of relief when I heard the group of gun-toting Survivors pass the door, apparently unaware of my being there.

Until I let out a cough.

I couldn't seem to control my coughing, and it hadn't failed to get me into some tight places before. A voice inside of my head yelped in fear as I heard the four stop in their tracks. One of them let out a long whistle.

"That sound like a Smoker to you, Francis?" I heard the hiss of a Zippo lighter as one of them lit another cigarette. I tried to run deeper into the room I had stumbled into, but ended up colliding with a kitchen grill and a set of hanging pans. In return, I heard the sound of four different guns cock.

"Sure does." The girl muttered, walking slowly towards the metal door. I turned around and tried to squint through the dark. An escape, there had to be an escape! I was in a kitchen, and after a few seconds of desperate searching, I found a hiding place: a large metal pantry, stuck deep into the corners of the other side of the room. Rushing over, I slipped into the metal box just as the door to the kitchen swung open and the silhouettes of four Survivors crowded doorway. They stood silent for a minute, then the girl took a small step forward.

"Shit. The nasty tongue-thing must've escaped." She slung her gun over her shoulder and turned around, facing the others. "We might as well leave it be and keep walking. The military isn't going to wait forever." The three others looked at each other, then nodded. They walked outside, back into the alleyway, but the girl stayed behind. She took a long look around a kitchen, and I almost coughed- _almost _–out of sheer nervousness. She turned her back to me and undid her ponytail, tying in back up into a neater one.

Suddenly, I felt myself push the door to the pantry open and step out. My tongue slid out of my mouth and I whipped it around the girl, tying her up. _What are you doing? _A part of me screamed inside my head. _You're getting yourself killed! _The girl screamed, and I pulled my tongue back towards me. _You need to kill, _another voice said. _You're an Infected now, you need to kill! _I heard the three other Survivors run back towards the kitchen. The burly, tattooed man aimed his shotgun and fired, severing my tongue. I ran into the shadows and stumbled into a hidden doorway, leading me back into another alley. I climbed up the gutter of a building and ran towards the middle of the roof. They couldn't see me now… I was safe. I sighed in relief. My days were numbered.


	3. Witch

_BANG! Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat. BANG! BANG!_

I flinched when I heard the sound of gunfire. The darkened alley lit up just around the corner, and dozens of common Infected sprinted towards the humans, screeching and wailing and yelping… only to be cut short by a bullet to the head. I moaned. Why must they be so… loud? Those retched Survivors always had to follow me with their guns and bombs and yells of enthusiasm. Being Infected was bad enough- and now I have to worry about _these guys?_

I let out a wail of pain. I was the only one, the only Infected who still remembered what it was like to be a human. Laughing and shopping and socializing, falling in love… A felt another sob escape my lips as I remembered my boyfriend. Some blind military oaf _"mistook" _him for a zombie and shot him. I couldn't control my crying anymore. Everyone got it off easy except for me: The common zombies just forgot about everything. The Survivors still had a life to live. Now, here _I_ am, an ugly, distorted zombie, my humanity snatched away by the… the… flu_._ I pounded the cold asphalt with my hands, wailing and sobbing and moaning. It's not fair! I settled down to a gentle cry when I heard four voices ring out through the air.

"Yo, lights off."

"Another Witch? Jee-zus."

"Not again."

"Shut _up,_ guys!"

I heard the _click_ of four flashlights, and the light thudding sound as the four Survivors tiptoed towards me. I let out a wail. They get guns, I get overgrown nails! Not fair!

"Oh God, she's getting mad."

"Man, can I just shoot her? There was a note in the safe-house: If you aim just above her eyes…"

"No! Just leave her be. Maybe she's just…"

"Sad? Yeah, right. That stupid zombie ain't got no feelings no anymore."

I let out a soft growl. No feelings? Of _course _I had feelings! Oh, what I wouldn't give…

"Shut up! She can hear you!"

"No, she can't, _Zo-ey,_ monsters don't have _feel-ings._" The voice of a man mocked the girl, and another man chuckled softly. "You've been watching too many horror movies."

That garbage! I felt my blood boil, and I scraped my claws against the floor. I _could_ kill him, but that would be suicide… Better than this, though…

"Hey, Bill, a bottle of meds says that I can shoot an' kill the bitch." The gruff man scoffed. I heard the sound of a zipper _zzzzzzip,_ and a small _shake-shake_ as he shook a bottle of painkillers.

"Hah, says the guy who was beaten down by a Common. You're on."

I heard the _click_ of a shotgun as he loaded bullets into his weapon. I growled softly, edging closer towards the group., my knees scraping the ground.

"Francis, don't do it! She'll hurt you- bad!" The girl pushed the shotgun down, aiming it at the floor. "Let's just move on, guys."

"Shut up, Zoey! Lil' crying bitch is gonna go down…" He muttered. He aimed his gun.

_That's it!_ I've have enough of this bozo! I let out a wild screech and burst forward, the bullet of his gun hitting the place where I _used_ to sit. I jumped towards him and knocked him down. I screamed and clawed at his face, leaving bloody scars all over his body.

"_You stupid sonofabitch!_" I yelled, although it came out as a mere word-less scream. I clawed as his face, and barely felt the bullet of a gun pierce my side. Then another… and another…

Is this a suicide mission? Do I want to die? The man underneath me was still trying to resist, but I pinned him down, leaving him helpless. More bullets attacked me, and the pain grew from small to excruciating. I couldn't die, not yet. This life was bad, but…not yet. I sent a final claw to his chest, my blow digging deep scars into his skin- and then some, I assumed. I jumped off of him and quickly scaled the side of a building, going full-speed towards a place of safety. A trail of bullets followed me, then died down as I reached the second story of an office, breaking the window and tumbling inside. A mumble of incoherent voices came from below, and they all grew quiet as they tried to tend to the man's wounds. A few second passed, then the woman let out an aggravated sigh.

"God, Francis… I told you so."


	4. Boomer

My stomach growled.

Hungry, again? I shuffled towards a small house, a light flickering in the distance. The dry leaves under my feet crunched and cracked, and I was reminded of a loose bag of chips I had found the other day. So good... Sure, there was a little of a Spitter's spit on it, but who was I to get picky? As I started to walk uphill towards the cottage ahead, I myself spit to get rid of the nasty glob of God-knows-what accumulating in my mouth. _Gross!_ My human self would have shrieked. _Nas-ty!_ I chuckled. Nasty was my new skill, being what I was now: A fat, nasty Infected, whose pastime was vomiting on others. I reached the front door and shoved my weight against it. The door cracked and broke, and I walked inside. Kitchen... kitchen... Where was the stupid kitchen? A strange gurgle came from my stomach, and I scowled. Back before the Infection, people had avoided me, calling me names like "Fatty!" and "Burger Boy!", shoving past me in the halls and making disgusted faces when I passed by. I laughed heartily. Now look at them! Skinny, screaming freaks that ran towards me and tried to eat my barf, adoring worshipers of my godly vomit. Hah! I spotted the familiar shape of a beat-up refrigerator out of the corner of my eye. I quickly walked over and pulled it open. Numerous fruits, a bowl of salad, some half-filled bottles of water, and a couple cups of yogurt grinned back at me.

"Ergh!" I kicked at the fridge. Healthy food! Where was the good stuff? I grabbed a cup of yogurt and it broke in my hand, the creamy mush spilling onto my wart-filled fingers. I brought the cup to my mouth and licked up the tasteless garbage: at least I had _something_ to eat. I ripped open the cabinets and looked for something- anything -better than this health-freak crap.

I froze when I heard voices coming from outside the house.

Survivors? Not this far away from the main city! I shuffled to a nearby closet and hid inside, thankful that this was a closet larger than the rest. The voices became clearer, and I had to come up with an escape plan. Should I just vomit on them and run? Let them shoot me? Run? The floorboards of the house creaked as they came inside.

"God, I hope there's food here. I'm starving."

They walked into the kitchen and started to look through the refrigerator and cabinets. They cheered at the sight of the healthy snacks, and I groaned inside my head. Maybe if I had laid off the burgers, I wouldn't be so damn picky with healthy food. Suddenly, the worst thing that could possibly happen, happened.

I let out a fart.

Yes, that's right, I picked the most amazing time to let out a toot. You should have seen what the kids at my school did when I farted: screams of horror, laughter, taunts, fake faints. But these guys weren't kids. They were gun toting, merciless Survivors that knew exactly what zombies did what, and how to fight till the bitter end. They grew quiet, and my stomach let out another gurgle. I could hear them creep towards my closet, and the familiar _ch-chink_ of a gun. That's it, I'm through. So long, McDonald's fries, sweet onion rings, cold Cokes. I let out one final, perfectly timed burp and-

The screech of a Hunter echoed through the air. The Survivors turned around to face the second zombie and I stumbled out of the closet, letting out a disgusting wave of vomit in their direction. The girl screamed, and her yelp was followed by the screams of a hoard of Infected. Jeez, those things could smell barf a mile away! I edged around them- they couldn't see me due to the blanket of fluid covering their faces -and I shuffled out the back door of the house, thankful for my escape. Maybe it was time to lay off the junk food.


	5. Jockey

I let out another squeal of laughter as I stood outside of the small cottage, observing the scene inside. Some fatty was about to get blown to kingdom-come, and was saved by some hump- er, hunter. Hah! What a freak, jumping on people like that. But those burger-boys, gee, they just _have _to vomit all over everything, don't they? I let out another dry chuckle when I remembered that Boomer raiding the fridge. His face was priceless... groaning and grumbling at healthy food! I was shoved to the side as another horde of zombies came rushing at the humans. They're screwed!

_Burglafurgruburblah._ I glanced to my right and noticed that same Boomer eyeballing me from around the corner of the house. _Pervert!_ I screamed and let out a giggling laugh, then stumbled away from Mr. Deep Fried. Ugh! Those Boomers were always trying to corner me, the lonely pigs. I glanced back inside the house and grinned when I noticed that nearly all of the Survivors were down... except for one. Some freak in a stained white suit stumbled away from the horde, trying to mow dow the Infected with a mere pistol. The worst part was, he was doing a pretty good job at it. He tripped over a coffee table and reloaded his gun with lightning speed. I laughed when a Common fell on top of him and started to claw at his suit. The poor bastard, wearing- of _all _things! _-_an expensive white suit in an apocalypse. Despite his unruly fashion choice, the crowd of zombies was thinning out rapidly.

The man disappeared around a corner, and I hopped into the house. Maybe it was time I offered up some help around these parts. Positioning myself behind a couch, I waited until a moment of weakness offered itself up. There was always, _always, _a moment of weakness. I recognized the _click_ of his gun as he reloaded it, and I waited until the shots continued... One shot... two, three... four... five... six, seven- oh, eight... nine... ten! I squealed and ran out from behind the couch, hopping onto the table and jumping towards the man. In the split second he saw me coming at him, and look of hate and _Oh, shit, you again!_ overtook his expression. I clung to his neck and swung myself around. _Yee-ha!_ I ran him into and wall and giggled, pulling back clumps of his slicked-back hair. He yelled out in pain, and I grabbed onto his head, digging my hands into his face. He tried to shoot at me and I felt something pierce my leg. Bastard! I let out a forced squeal and got him to run into a TV. His head shattered the screen, and he dropped to the ground. Dead? I jumped off of my- Hah! -pony, then scrambled to see if he was still alive. He barely lifted his eyelids, and I scoffed. As I hopped down the hall to the front door, I screamed as a bullet pieced my hunched back.

_Shit!_


	6. Spitter

**Hey! Sorry for not adding anything new for so long, I guess I needed a little break. I apologize if my writing is worse than it was before, bear with me! Anyhow, enjoy!**

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_Ssssssss._ I giggled at the sound of my acid-green spit hitting to pavement, accompanied by the painful screams of the unlucky Survivors standing in it. What losers! I shuffled back into the shadows and bumped into a screaming commoner. _Shut up!_ I hissed at him, shoving him away. Flecks of my beautiful, neon spit flew out of my mouth and singed the Infected's face, burning holes in his already scarred, unattractive head. He gave me a blank, clueless stare, then shuffled off to join the Horde.

Ugh! All the zombies nowadays were bent on destruction and death, and none, absolutely _none _of them were the slightest bit attractive. They could never match up to me- still as gorgeous as I was before the flu. Ah, back then I was living the dream life. Popular, rich, I was perfect. People _bowed _to me. Hell, there's a reason I was lacking the normal amount of clothes that one night I morphed into a zombie... _Everyone_ wanted a piece of me! What was the point of being popular when I couldn't flaunt my stuff? I wandered into a darkened alleyway as my thoughts of a previous life continued. I began to hack as I remembered the downsides of being gorgeous. People calling me a _slut,_ a _whore-_ and what, all because I dressed nice and knew how to use makeup? Ah, jealous, that's all they were.

I ceased hacking up green bile as the voices of the tired Survivors met me ears. Were they getting closer? Climbing up and behind a Dumpster, I spotted the four humans round the corner and walk up the alleyway.

"I _hate_ that ugly bitch! Spitting on us-"

"Great! Acid all over my shoes! These are _Italian,_ folks-"

Ugly? I'm not ugly! Who was he to call me ugly? As they slipped into a warehouse door, one of them hung back and began to adjust the guns strapped onto his back. He cursed under his breath as a crowbar fell to the pavement with a clatter. I stumbled out from behind my hiding place- oh, those ballet lessons sure made me graceful, I was perfect -and began to hack, drawing up enough acid to burn that... hey, he was kinda cute! He reminds me of some country guy I dated a few weeks before the Infection...

"Ahh! Guys! It's... it's that disgusting chick! Gross! Guys, help, she's spitting!"

He stumbled backwards and, in an attempt to fend me off, threw his crowbar at me.

Gross? Disgusting? But... but, I'm beautiful! How dare-

A shot rang out through the night, and I collapsed to the ground in a heap, my acid forming a pool of blood around my perfect body.


	7. Charger

"Nick!" Rochelle said, "Why don't you listen to me for two damn seconds before you shoot down my plan!"

I could hear the group of humans arguing with each other just around the corner. It was already dark, and the only source of light in the alleys of the city came from the moon. I breathed heavily, grunting as I shifted my weight in the tight, dark corner. The voices of the survivors grew louder.

"I don't need your attitude, little miss, you just don't understand what's at stake here-"

"Nick, c'mon man, let her talk. It's not good to be out this late and we need _some_ kind of a plan..."

"-which is exactly what I'm saying! Guys, I _know _there's a safehouse just across the street, just let me get..."

I grunted. These survivors were so close, I could smell them. I practically itched to attack them. To crush their bones... make them feel what it was like, the anger of being stuck as this deformed giant of a zombie...

Just a block down the street, something metal clattered to the ground. All four survivors grew silent, and I had to stifle a screech. They were coming, they had heard the survivor's voices, and the humans would have no chance to defend themselves. I could feel myself growing excited, restless, eager to show myself to them and to make them bleed.

"We have to get our asses across the street, looks like we don't have a choice anymore."

I could hear the fear in the man's whisper. I could always sense their fear, no matter how much they tried to mask it. You could see it in their faces... _I _could see it in their faces. After all, you wouldn't be too confident with a massive, mutated freak like me rushing towards you, would you? My panting grew louder, but they failed to hear it. An infected screeched in the distance, and a gun cocked.

Now would be the time to attack. They were stupid, positively senseless, huddling themselves in a corner and failing to work out a plan. At this point, they deserved to be attacked for being so reckless, and I was in the perfect position to do so. I could see their reactions as I rounded the corner; They would be terrified, afraid, desperate for a way out... And they wouldn't have one. Which of them should I aim for? I let out another grunt and crouched further into my corner, surrounded by brick walls and trash. I could aim for the girl, she would be the weakest target. So frail, so desperate for a say in the group. Her reaction time might even be slower than the others.

Another screech sounded throughout the night, followed by an inhuman groan. I could hear the group take quick, quiet steps to reposition themselves in the alleyway, nervously trying their best to arm themselves. Should I wait for the horde to find them, or should I charge them now and provide the spark for the upcoming slaughter? I could feel my arm pulsing with whatever ran through my undead veins. I was beginning to feel the kick of the... adrenaline? Excitement? Whatever it was that allowed for me to gain such a rush over the kill. I knew the survivors must feel this rush too. You don't survive in such a brutal apocalypse without being a little brutal, a little vicious yourself. It was a wonder they had managed to stay alive and together this long. I began to creep out of my hiding spot, being careful to stay hidden in the deeper shadows. I wouldn't be able to see the survivors, but I could feel them, and hear their breath. More groans could be heard on the street, this time just next to the alleyway now. I rounded the corner in the darkness and set my sights on the movement just a few yards away. The humans were rustling about, edging closer to each other as they prepared themselves for whatever they were expecting. Their sights were trained on the end of the alleyway opening into the illuminated street, paying no attention to the darkened, second entrance where I emerged from.

Suddenly, a single common infected rounded the corner and walked into the alley. It stumbled on its path and turned to face the survivors with two empty eyes.

There was a flash of swift motion as the woman reached behind her back and drew out a baseball bat. Before she could run up to attack the zombie, there was a flash and a _bang!_ sounded in the air. With the light of the fired gun, I could see all four of them standing with their backs to me. A man in a yellow t-shirt was standing with his pistol pointed upward at where the common zombie had stood, and a look of horror could be found on each of their faces as the loudness of the shot echoed throughout the street. The straggling zombies all around began to screech and run towards the source of the sound.

"Shit, _shit! _Oh my god, I didn't mean to - I panicked, I didn't th-_"_

I ran around the corner with a screech and pushed myself at full speed towards the group. I hit two of the humans with full impact and grabbed at the both of them with my giant arm, ignorant to whichever of the two I would end up carrying. The other two survivors were knocked off their feet, but quickly pulled themselves up as they realized what was happening. My screech had attracted even more of the undead, and a few were beginning to run down the alley, screaming and clawing at the air as they sprinted towards the group.

I had grabbed the man in the yellow shirt, and I carried him out of the narrow alley and into the open street, where we collided with the wall of a building across the way. Gunshots began to fire behind me, but they were directed at the zombies at the alley's open end, not towards me - at least, I didn't feel them. I crashed into the wall with a massive _thud_, the man caught between my body and the wall. I tightened my grip on him as he began to struggle, yelling for his friends to help him. My vision was red and I was crazed with a rush. I had my victim, he was going to die, I was going to crush him into the ground and feel his life drain away in my hand. I grunted and slammed him into the sidewalk. He screamed.

I could hear the others behind me, firing rapidly into the growing crowd of zombies rushing towards them. I could hear their yells as they tried to gain an advantage small enough to allow them to save their friend.

"_Ellis!"_ A man yelled amongst the gunfire. I lifted my victim from the ground and slammed him into the sidewalk again, this time hearing cracks as he made contact.

"Jesus Christ, kill this thing!"

I picked him up and slammed him down again, relishing my power over his injured body. All those failed attempts at an attack, all those bullets piercing my flesh... _Now_ I could get my revenge.

The yells of the undead grew louder behind me. I felt a lone bullet hit my back, hardly enough to injure me. I slammed him into the ground again, and he gasped for breath. Another bullet his my back and I grunted. Was a survivor thinning the crowd enough to make their way towards me? Another slam into the ground drew blood from the man. They wouldn't get here soon enough. He was mine.

A screech sounded from directly behind me - but it wasn't undead. I felt a heavy object slam into my back, and I stumbled, still clutching the man's body. I turned and was met with another hit right across my jaw, and I grunted in pain. The woman from the group was poising herself for another attack, her arms clutching a baseball bat and her body turning to swing again. I stepped backward and tightened my grip on the man, slamming him into the ground in anger. He yelled and struggled to wrench his way out of my grip. Zombies began to run towards the woman and she had to shift away from me to hit and drive them away from her. I leaned forward and shoved into her, knocking her off balance and putting her at the mercy of the nearby infected. I slammed my victim into the ground again, and his cries began to grow weaker. His yells were joined by those of the woman with the bat as she barely fended herself from the zombies surrounding her, using the bat as a barrier between the bodies of the zombies and her own.

I lifted the man up one last time to deliver the death blow. He struggled with all his might, knowing he was near the end. Just as I began to bring him down, dozens of bullets began to drive themselves into my side. _Aaugh! _I released my grip and he fell to the ground, crying out in agony and fumbling for the second pistol at his side. I stumbled, trying to distance myself from the attack of bullets, but them kept on coming. The pain was unbearable as I felt the bullets bury themselves in me. I screeched and blindly ran to the side, only to hit a wall and lose my balance. My vision began to blur and I thrust my arm out around me, hoping to connect it with whoever was hurting me, but I only fell to the ground with a grunt.

A split second later, a wooden bat connected with the back of my head and the street went dark.


End file.
